


i've built my life around you

by buddiebuddie



Series: white house AU [14]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Comforting Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Eddie Diaz Takes Care of Evan "Buck" Buckley, Established Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, M/M, Maddie Buckley is a Good Sister, Mentioned Christopher Diaz, Nightmares, Sick Evan "Buck" Buckley, Soft Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley, Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, White House AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 02:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30031929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buddiebuddie/pseuds/buddiebuddie
Summary: “In case you forgot, the Buckley Administration has an anti-torture policy,” Buck says, looking between Maddie and the tiny plastic cup of offensive red liquid in Eddie’s outstretched hand.Buck does not have the flu. He's totally fine, not at all sick, anddefinitelydoesn't have the flu. Okay?
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: white house AU [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677313
Comments: 36
Kudos: 209





	i've built my life around you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Princessfbi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princessfbi/gifts).



> this is set within my white house au but can totally stand alone (with the context that buck's the president and eddie's the head of his secret service detail with whom he has fallen in love, because duh)
> 
> it takes place at the very beginning of buck's second term, just over 4 years since he was first elected

“You.” Eddie points at Buck. “Bed. Now.” 

Buck pouts. “That wasn’t nearly as hot as it usually is.”

Eddie takes a deep breath as he crosses the room to where Buck’s hovering over the coffee maker and jabbing at the buttons. “No coffee,” he says, lifting the handle on the machine to stop it from brewing. “Bed.” 

Buck can’t help but notice how Eddie’s voice somehow manages to strike the perfect balance between firm and gentle. He thinks about all the times he’s heard him use the same tone with Christopher, warmth coming through even in his most unyielding moments. But that’s just the type of guy Eddie is– the type of dad, the type of partner– firm yet fair, stubborn yet loving. 

He crowds Buck’s space, pulling the coffee pod out of the machine and chucking it into the sink without so much as a glance in its direction. He keeps his eyes trained on Buck, some combination of insistence and concern coloring his expression. “I mean it,” he says. “Bed.”

Eddie can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt that Buck is sick in the first place. A third of Christopher’s class had the flu last week, and while he was thankfully spared and remained healthy, he must’ve brought it home with him. It didn’t help matters that Buck still insisted on making good on his promise of a Harry Potter movie marathon after the two of them finished reading Goblet of Fire together. Eddie didn’t believe either one of them could sit still for the duration of four feature films, despite both of their insistence that they could. And they proved him wrong, time slipping away as they sat curled up against one other on the couch beneath Christopher’s beloved Spider-Man blanket. 

The vision of Buck tucking his legs up– in a way that _had_ to be killing his knees– so that the two of them could share the child-sized blanket still held Eddie’s heart in a vice grip.

Buck woke up exhausted and achy on Sunday but assumed it had more to do with the way he’d been sitting during the movies followed by the, ahem, _activities_ that he and Eddie had engaged in after Chris went to sleep. By Sunday night he was sniffling, too. And now, Monday morning, he’s got a cough that rattles against his ribs and eyes so glassy Eddie can all but see his reflection in them. 

And Eddie’s kicking himself for it. He had told Buck that a handful of Christopher’s classmates had been out sick, and mentioned that Shannon had offered to take him for the weekend just in case he wound up coming down with anything. Buck was horrified at the thought and refused to even entertain the thought of Chris spending Eddie’s weekend anywhere other than at home with them in the residence. Buck just asserted that he had “Buckley Immunity,” whatever that was.

Eddie knew better, he _swears_ he did, but something about the way Buck’s eyes dimmed, the way his face fell at even the mention of going a few more days without seeing Christopher was enough to keep Eddie from putting his foot down and insisting they stay apart. 

And while “Buckley Immunity” might very well be a real thing, it’s apparently no match for the flu strain making its way through the fourth grade at Sidwell Friends School. Eddie also suspects Buck’s immune system has weakened after four years of limited public interaction, which can't help matters. Sure, he has meetings and dinners and ceremonies that fill his schedule. But they don’t provide even a fraction of the public exposure of riding public transportation, eating at restaurants, and going to parties, bars, concerts, and the like. 

Regret swirls around in Eddie’s stomach, rising up the back of his throat as he looks at Buck. He’s totally out of it, clearly worn down. His cheeks are flushed pink, as is the tip of his nose. The blue of his eyes is even more piercing than usual, brilliant and electric beneath a fever-induced shine. 

“M’fine,” Buck insists. There’s an edge of delirium to his voice, somehow floaty and muddied at the same time, the words blending together as they cross his lips.

Eddie shakes his head. “You’re sick.” 

“And you’re pretty,” Buck says, running his fingers down Eddie’s cheek. “So pretty.” 

The heat coming off him is unmistakable, fever burning through his skin and onto Eddie’s with each brush of his fingers. Eddie rolls his eyes fondly, reaching up and removing Buck’s lingering hand from his face. As he wraps his fingers around Buck’s wrist, the sear of his skin beneath his fingers stirs up a fresh wave of concern deep in Eddie’s gut. 

“You’re burning up,” he frowns, bringing the back of his hand up to Buck’s forehead, followed by his palm against the nape of Buck’s neck. He mutters something to himself about Tylenol before his fingers return to Buck’s wrist, guiding him out of the kitchen and to their bedroom. 

Eddie can’t help but melt a little bit at how small Buck looks, childish innocence coloring his features as he sits cross-legged on the bed and looks up at Eddie through wide eyes. “I have to go to work,” he says. 

“Not today you don’t,” Eddie says gently, easing the blankets out from beneath Buck’s legs before draping them over his lap. He places a hand on Buck’s shoulder, guiding him to lean back against the pillows before rubbing his thumb against his collarbone reassuringly. “All you have to do today is sleep.” 

“He’s right.” Maddie appears in the doorway, stepping into the room and looking Buck up and down. “I cleared your schedule. Your only job is to rest.” 

Eddie had texted Maddie after Buck had insisted on getting up and getting ready for work after he woke up clearly run down, not at all himself. Eddie’s gentle suggestion he stay home turned into insistence when it was clear that Buck wasn’t going down without a fight. And when that didn’t work and Buck slipped past Eddie in search of coffee, Eddie had no choice but to bring out the big guns. 

Besides, he has two back-to-back meetings today that will keep him away for a couple hours, and he’d feel better if someone were here with Buck– at least until he falls back asleep, anyway. Maddie has her own meetings to get to, but Buck will be knocked out by then and Eddie won’t be too long.

Buck looks up at Eddie, pouting. “You called Maddie? Traitor.” 

Maddie and Eddie share a look that’s equal parts fond and exasperated. Eddie heads into the ensuite bathroom in search of cold medicine as Maddie sits down on the side of the mattress and says something to Buck that’s too quiet for Eddie to make out. He returns a moment later and presses two pills into Buck’s hand with an expectant eyebrow raise. 

Buck swallows them down with the help of the water bottle Eddie passes him, groaning as the single sip of water hits his stomach and sends it turning over. Which makes Eddie feel even worse about handing him the small cup of liquid cough syrup he’s just finished pouring. One whiff of it has Buck shaking his head and pressing his lips into a line. 

“C’mon,” Eddie says gently, crouching down so he’s on Buck’s level. “It’s going to make you feel better.”

Buck shakes his head again. “No.”

Eddie’s been in this position more times than he can count: trying to get cold medicine past a set of lips that are very determined to remain shut. And while this may be the first time it’s not his child who he’s pleading with, after ten years, Eddie’s still undefeated when it comes to this particular battle. And he’s not trying to break his streak any time soon. Regardless of if he's staring down a fourth grader or the leader of the free world, Eddie's plan of attack remains the same: reason, request, tough love. In that order. 

Reason already failed, so request it is. "Buck, please," Eddie says calmly.

He shakes his head. For two people who don't share genetics, Eddie's floored by how much Buck reminds him of Christopher right now– arms crossed, eyes wide, curls disheveled, jaw clenched in determination. If he weren't so frustrated by Buck's stubbornness, the realization probably would have had Eddie melting into the floor.

“Buck,” Maddie warns. 

“In case you forgot, the Buckley Administration has an anti-torture policy,” he says, looking between Maddie and the tiny plastic cup of offensive red liquid in Eddie’s outstretched hand. 

“We also don’t negotiate with terrorists,” Eddie says, taking Buck’s chin in his hand and bringing the cup to his lips. Tough love. “Let’s go.” 

Buck whimpers, shaking his head. Maddie sighs. She remembers watching the nannies chase him around with cough syrup when he was a kid, how they tried everything from coating the spoon in honey to mixing the stuff into ice cream. But Buck always had a knack for knowing when they were trying to get one over on him. 

“Don’t make me squish your cheeks,” Maddie says, wiggling her fingers and looking at him mischievously. That was the only thing that ever worked as a kid: squishing Buck’s cheeks together with one hand and shooting the syringe of medicine down his throat with the other.

The mention of it alone has Buck parting his lips and tilting his head back long enough to allow Eddie to tip the medicine into his mouth. He grumbles something about waterboarding under his breath as Eddie rolls his eyes. He swishes a small sip of water around his mouth to chase off the artificial cherry taste clinging to the back of his teeth, shaking his head at Maddie’s request he drink more. 

Eddie can tell just from the look in Buck’s eyes that even the tiny sip is upsetting his stomach as he swallows it down. He frowns, leaning over and dropping a kiss to Buck’s forehead. “Rest,” he murmurs. “I mean it.” 

Buck’s eyelids are starting to droop already. Whether it’s from the medicine or the comfort that comes with the feel of Eddie’s lips against his skin and the mattress dipped beneath Maddie’s weight, he’s not sure. All he knows is that his chest is warm and he feels safe.

“I promise,” Buck mumbles, voice thick with sleep already. He extends his pinky to Eddie, who smiles and glances at Maddie. 

“That’s not for me,” Eddie says. It’s met with a look of confusion from Buck, his brow furrowing, pink lips parting. And then Eddie gently guides his hand in Maddie’s direction. She’s waiting with her own outstretched pinky and a soft smile, warmth and fondness in her eyes. 

“I promise,” Buck repeats, looping his finger around Maddie’s.

Eddie grabs his radio and phone from the kitchen before poking his head back into the bedroom. Buck’s already asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly as Maddie sings to him quietly. 

_And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills_

_Well, maybe_

_Well, maybe_

She looks up when she senses Eddie at the door, glancing at him over her shoulder and smiling. She stands up and crosses the room to him. “Landslide?” he asks.

She nods, following him out into the hallway and closing the door quietly behind herself. Her voice is low as to not wake Buck, just above a whisper as she tells Eddie about the first summer Buck was old enough to be shipped away to sleep away camp with her. The first few weeks there, he spent several homesick, sleepless nights slipping past his counselors and sneaking into Maddie’s bunk. 

They’d sit on the grass until the blades left indentations on the bottom of their thighs, staring up at the stars and looking for constellations. Maddie’s bunk had been rehearsing to sing Landslide in the end-of-summer talent show, and she’d find herself singing the song absentmindedly as she led Buck down the wooden steps and across the rec field to the perfect stargazing spot. It became a thing of comfort for Buck, the feel of the cool grass beneath his bare feet, Maddie’s gentle voice floating alongside fireflies and midsummer humidity. 

A couple months later, once they were back home, Buck woke with a start in the middle of the night, his sleep plagued with a nightmare for the first time in a while. When he tiptoed across the hallway and climbed into Maddie’s bed like he had done so many times before, she asked “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He just shook his head, too rattled from the vivid imagery that just played out in his mind to even consider reliving it long enough to tell Maddie about it. When his heart was still racing after a few minutes, his wide eyes still staring up at the ceiling, Maddie started to sing. _I took my love and I took it down._

Buck’s breath came a little easier, his heart beat a little slower. He could practically feel the cool grass digging into his thighs, the thick night air clinging to his skin in the way that had him lusting after a breeze. He could hear the crickets chirping, the whipping of the flag against the pole in the distance on those rare moments when the gods heard his prayers and the air would finally move. 

Maddie’s voice. That song. It felt like home more than the four walls around him ever did. 

________

The sound of the conference room doors opening has every head at the table turning. Eddie’s sitting across from Athena, Bobby sitting beside him. There are a couple of other FBI agents flanking Athena, but she’s running the show, making her way through the weekly FBI/Secret Service briefing agenda as swiftly as a hot knife through butter. 

These meetings tend to take the entire hour, especially once they get to catching up. But at Eddie’s mention of Buck being under the weather, Athena hustled everyone along, moving through the week’s topics as quickly as possible in an effort to get Eddie out of the conference room and back to the residence as soon as she could. 

She tried to get him to leave outright and have Bobby report back to him later, but he refused. As much as he wanted to be with Buck, he didn’t want to risk missing any information that could wind up affecting Buck and his safety in the coming week.

Eddie’s back is to the door, which is why he sees the agents beside Athena rising to their feet before he sees Buck standing in the doorway. “Mr. President,” one of them says. Athena motions for them to sit back down, knowing just how much Buck hates it when people stand upon his entering a room. 

Eddie sighs, taking in the sight of him. His face is still flushed, only now his curls are stuck to his forehead thanks to a thin layer of cold sweat. His eyes are glazed over, dark circles beneath them as he glances around the room. 

And then Eddie’s eyes land on the black hood pulled up over his ears and heart slams up against his ribcage. 

Eddie’s favorite sweatshirt stretches across his shoulders, one from his time at the Secret Service training academy. It’s oversized and well-worn, the black fabric starting to fade after almost a decade of wear. The Secret Service shield is emblazoned on the front right, DIAZ stitched below it in white thread. 

Eddie’s clothes tend to be just a little snug on Buck, but it’s never deterred him. This sweatshirt’s a little oversized to begin with, worn out even more from years of wear. Combined with the way Buck’s frame is a little lighter, a little leaner after barely eating since Saturday night, he’s practically swimming in the thing. 

Eddie’s not sure if it’s the sweetest or the hottest thing he’s ever seen, Buck walking the halls of the White House in his sweatshirt, branded with his name and without a care who sees.

And sure, most (if not all) of it can be attributed to the thick haze of febrile delirium clouding his judgment. Objectively, Eddie knows that. But the knowledge doesn’t stop the flurry of butterflies kicking to life in Eddie’s gut, doesn't quell the burning in his chest and the warmth spreading across his skin at the sight. 

“Mr. President,” Eddie manages to get out, the words fighting their way past the sudden dryness of his throat. He’s trying to remain calm, to keep from jumping up and running into the hallway to find out which agent let him come down here – or worse, which agent he was able to slip past. 

It’s as if Bobby can sense the way Eddie’s blood is running hotter through his veins, the way his palms have started itching and his teeth have clenched a little harder. He places a hand on Eddie’s forearm, a silent, gentle reminder to slow it all down and keep his cool. 

“I thought you were off today,” Eddie says pointedly. 

“I was looking for you,” Buck says simply. His voice is thick and gravelly, and Eddie wonders if they’re the first words he’s spoken since he fell asleep almost three hours ago. He still has creases from the pillowcase on his flushed cheek, his eyes heavy and tired as he shifts his gaze from Eddie to Athena and points his finger at her. She raises her eyebrow, to which Buck says, “You stole my boyfriend.” 

She scoffs, shaking her head fondly before looking between Bobby and Eddie. Eddie closes his eyes, sighs, and starts reciting the serenity prayer in his mind. 

"I most certainly did not," Athena says. 

Bobby looks up at Buck and tips his head. “Eddie knows better.” 

Buck looks at Eddie expectantly, as if challenging him to make a statement on the matter. Before he can, Bobby speaks up again. “Why don’t I finish up here?” he suggests. “Maybe Eddie can get you back to bed.”

Eddie thinks that sounds like a _great_ idea. The best, actually. He nods, sliding his chair back from the table and moving to stand. But Buck shakes his head and drops into the chair at the head of the table before Eddie has a chance to get to his feet. 

“No, no,” Buck insists, resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands beneath his chin. “Carry on. You won’t even know I’m here.” 

Everyone else in the room shares a look while Eddie runs the scenarios in his head. He realizes that the fastest route to getting Buck back in bed is just to let him stay and try to bang out the rest of the meeting as quickly as possible. 

They only have two more items on the agenda, which Eddie anticipates will be covered sooner than it would take to either a) talk some sense into Buck, or b) physically drag him back up to the residence. Bobby must be having the same thought, his agreement evident in the slight shrug of his shoulders as he glances between Eddie and the agendas in front of them.

Eddie keeps stealing glances at Buck as Athena talks. He seems to be fine, but it doesn't do much to stop the nagging feeling in Eddie's gut, the worry still clouding his mind. Buck listens intently to their discussion for the first few minutes, chiming in once they move onto the final agenda item. 

“So, last item,” Bobby says, tapping the paper agenda on the table in front of him. “A new group to watch in West Virginia?”

The agent beside Athena nods. “They’ve been making some noise on the dark web message boards. No credible threats, arms purchases, or red flags other than the fact that they’re establishing what’s essentially a racist echo chamber.” 

“They’re alt-right,” Athena clarifies, passing a couple of files to Bobby and Eddie. “And–”

“Isn’t it weird we say alt-right?” Buck cuts in. Every set of eyes in the room turns to look at him. “We should consider calling them alt-wrong instead.” 

“Alt-wrong?” Bobby asks. 

Eddie kicks him beneath the table. “Don’t encourage him,” he whispers between gritted teeth. 

“Yeah,” Buck nods earnestly. “They’re wrong. So wrong. And they’re mean. They’re bullies.”

“So wrong,” Athena parrots back, nodding thoughtfully as she scribbles in her notebook. “Bullies.” 

Eddie has half a mind to kick her, too. But he likes his leg too much to even try it. So instead, he clears his throat and says, “Okay, I think–”

“No one likes a bully, Athena,” Buck continues. “You should tell them that when you catch them.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Athena says. 

“C’mon,” Eddie says, standing up and walking over to Buck’s chair. When he places a hand on Buck’s arm, he can feel the heat coming off of him even through the thick material of his hoodie. “Let’s go.”

Buck pouts. “What? No! Athena wasn’t done telling us about the alt-wrong group.” 

Athena smiles at him from across the table. “I’ll fill you in tomorrow, Buckaroo.”

He mumbles something under his breath as Eddie helps him to his feet and guides him to the door. 

“Feel better, Mr. President,” one of the agents beside Athena calls as Eddie walks him out. 

“I’m not sick,” Buck calls back. Then he turns to Eddie and says, “Buckley Immunity.” 

“Uh huh,” Eddie nods, sucking on his teeth. He makes a mental note to ask Maddie about it later. “Buckley Immunity.” 

________

Buck is floating in a fever-induced haze as Eddie lays beside him, watching him drift in and out of sleep as chills roll through his body. He’s sweating, still in his suit from the day, from the meeting that ended abruptly after Buck’s appearance. He had the presence of mind to take off the suit jacket and loosen his tie when he kicked off his shoes, but was still clad in his dress pants and button-down.

Laying beside Buck– who curled up against him instantly, turning onto his side and tucking his face into the space between Eddie’s chest and his outstretched arm– doesn’t help at all in terms of Eddie overheating. Buck is practically a space heater beside him, warmth coming off him in waves as he sighs in his sleep and burrows beneath the blankets. 

Eddie had tried to get up a little while ago, just long enough to change, but Buck sensed his movement in his sleep and had made a noise of protest, snuggling into his side. And when Buck had started shivering beside him just a few minutes later, Eddie got under the blankets with him. Buck sighed contentedly as he attached himself to Eddie’s side like a barnacle on the bow of a ship, and suddenly Eddie didn’t mind the sweat beading on the small of his back and the nape of his neck. 

It’s no match for the relentless chills, though. Eddie gets up long enough to pull the extra blanket off the foot of the bed when he sees Buck’s teeth start to chatter, his face pinching up as another round of chills courses through his body. He curls his knees into his chest as Eddie pulls the blanket over him, tucking it beneath his chin before letting his hand linger, his fingers ghosting across Buck’s too-warm cheek. 

Buck’s skin might as well be aflame, with the way the heat comes off it, thick on Eddie’s lips as he drops a kiss to his temple. Buck’s eyelashes flutter, his features smoothing out as he relaxes into Eddie’s touch. 

His mind is clouded with the fever and the thick weight of sleep as he leans into Eddie. He’s not sure where he is or how he got here. He’s not even sure he knows what day it is. But he’d recognize Eddie’s touch anywhere. After all, it’s a high he’d spend a lifetime changing, the soft brush of those fingers that Buck knows more intimately than he does his own.

Eddie quickly changes into a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt before heading to the kitchen to refill Buck’s water bottle and rinse out the medicine cup from earlier that has since gone sticky. He sighs in relief when a glance at his watch tells him Buck’s just about due for another dose. 

As he finishes up in the kitchen, he texts Maddie to let her know the fever hasn’t broken yet, but at least he’s back in bed. He knew she felt tremendously guilty for leaving Buck earlier– even more so once she heard he managed to escape the residence– and he couldn’t really blame her. He felt just as bad about doing it himself. But much like Eddie, Maddie had a meeting she couldn’t miss. And not for nothing, the two of them (perhaps naively, in hindsight) genuinely believed Buck would have slept through Maddie’s hour-long absence. 

He nearly drops his phone when the strangled cry comes from down the hallway. “You okay?” he calls, running down the hard-wood floor, hands still laden with things. “Buck!” 

His heart is pounding in his chest as he flies down the hall. As he runs into the bedroom, he sees Buck tossing and turning, eyes screwed shut and hands curled into fists around the blankets. “Buck,” Eddie says evenly, dripping everything in his hands on the side table before sitting on the mattress and taking Buck’s face in his hands. 

“No!” Buck cries. “Eddie! _Eddie!_ Maddie! No, please! Come back!”

“I’m here,” Eddie says. His hands bracket Buck’s face, his fingers in his hair, his thumbs rubbing tiny, reassuring circles into his temples as he tries to pull Buck out of his dream. “It’s okay. It’s me, it’s Eddie. I’m here.” 

Buck’s eyes open slowly at first, then all at once. He gasps, sucking in a big lungful of air that makes his chest constrict. The slight wheeze with his next inhale sends Eddie into motion, helping him sit up just as he starts coughing. 

He pulls Buck into his lap, holding him upright as the coughing fit overtakes him. Eddie can feel the rattle of Buck’s ribs against his own from where Buck’s back is pressed up against his chest. Once it passes, Buck’s shoulders slump. He turns, burying his face in Eddie’s neck and closing his eyes. 

Eddie rubs circles into Buck’s back, whispering hushed reassurances into his sweat-damp curls as Buck’s breathing starts to even out. “It’s okay,” he says. “It was just a dream. It’s okay.”

Whatever Buck saw in his sleep must’ve really rattled him, if the way he’s clinging to Eddie is any indication. His hands are knotted in Eddie’s t-shirt, his cheek pressed up against the bare skin where Eddie’s neck meets his shoulder as he takes long, shaky breaths. 

“I couldn’t find you guys,” Buck says after a minute, voice raw. “One minute you were there, and… and then you weren’t.” 

Eddie presses a kiss to the top of Buck’s head, his chest aching at the pain in Buck’s voice as he recounts what sounds like an intense fever dream. “I could hear you screaming,” Buck continues. “But I couldn’t find you. I tried to run but there were these… these huge creatures pulling me back. And then there was just blackness.” His stomach drops at the memory of it, impossibly dark clouds rolling in and cloaking everything in black as the screams got louder.

Eddie’s stomach turns over, constricting with each guilt-stricken beat of his heart. There has to be some symbolism in the fact that Buck had a nightmare in which he was abandoned by Maddie and Eddie not even an hour after he woke up sick and alone, with the two of them nowhere to be found. And sure, Maddie left him a note and there was a pair of agents outside the residence doors the entire time. He was never really by himself, but that doesn't mean much to Eddie when he sees the anxiety clouding Buck’s eyes, feels the way his fingers twist up in his shirt as he holds onto him for dear life. When he knows the only thing Buck’s ever truly feared is being alone. 

They sit there a while longer, holding onto each other for a few more minutes until Eddie eases Buck back onto the pillows and lays down beside him. “You think you can stomach some more medicine?” he asks after a minute. 

He expects a fight, or at the very least an eye roll and a half-hearted rebuttal. But Buck just nods. He’ll drink the whole bottle of tortuous red liquid if it means keeping dreams like the one he just had at bay. He sits up against the headboard as Eddie measures out a dose and grabs Buck’s water bottle. 

Buck swallows the medicine without protest and manages to get a few sips of water down before his stomach lurches. He closes his eyes, taking a shaky breath as he waits for the wave of nausea to pass. Eddie takes the bottle from him and sets it down on the nightstand before helping him underneath the blankets. 

Eddie shuts the lights off and opens the window, the breeze coming through the screen thick with the scent of freshly cut grass. Buck sighs as Eddie gets into bed beside him, their legs tangling together beneath the sheets as Eddie presses a kiss to Buck’s temple. “You okay?” he asks. 

Buck nods, but the tension in his shoulders and the too-fast beat of his heart against Eddie’s chest say otherwise.

So, Eddie starts humming. And Buck? Well, Buck would know that song anywhere. 

_I took my love and I took it down._ _  
_ _I climbed a mountain and I turned around._

His body relaxes, his racing heart slows, his breath comes a little easier. By the time Eddie gets to the end of the song, Buck’s eyes are closed, his breathing leveled out as his chest rises and falls evenly. 

“Sleep,” Eddie murmurs. And Buck does.


End file.
